


Unclaimed

by The Spike (spike21)



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-09
Updated: 2004-03-09
Packaged: 2017-11-01 11:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/356272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spike21/pseuds/The%20Spike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex hasn't been getting any lately</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unclaimed

## Unclaimed

by The Spike

<http://avalon.net/~nonie/spike/spindex.htm>

* * *

Acknowledgements: Thanks to corinna5 for speed beta, thete1 and harrietspy for helpful comments. Te also inspired me with the sad/hot porn and Sarah also showed me the Vikram Seth poem 'unclaimed' from which I stole the title 

* * *

In the dream there was a kid who was not Clark -- a young man with dark, scraggly hair, dirty, pretty and criminal. In fact he was robbing the convenience store when Lex entered. The bell dingled. The kid looked up. His t-shirt was the yellow-grey of cheap white cotton washed too many times and it rode up on his flat belly in tiny wrinkles. He turned his gun on Lex and Lex knew the kid wanted to rape him. And that, somehow, was okay. He was pretty turned on. The kid slid his gun over his belly down to his groin. Lex got on his knees and shuffled across the floor until he was right there. He pushed up the kid's shirt. His skin was dotted with junkie bruises and little scratches but it was smooth over hard muscle and it had been so long... 

Lex pressed his lips to the kid's belly, while the kid stroked the side of Lex's head with the nickel-plated gun barrel. It was some kind of small semi-automatic pistol. Maybe a Beretta, Lex thought even as he leaned into the cold touch. Even as he moaned aloud, as his mouth watered for cock. The kid flicked open his fly and pulled himself out. He was hard, his dick pale and just as marked as the rest of him. Lex opened his mouth to it, wanting to swallow it with all the eagerness he felt but this was rape, he remembered in time. His job here was to take it and be humiliated. He could do that. He let the kid push into his mouth, only opening wider when the gun pressed against his temple. He let himself blush and pale with shame. There were people in the store, good people who would never get on their knees and knowing they were watching helped him keep in character. 

Oh but he wanted this so badly. Not the humiliation, not the rape but just this. Touch. Sex. The feel of a hand cupping his head, pulling him in; the feel of hard flesh in his mouth. The kid understood. He knew what Lex wanted and he wanted it too. And that was good enough. Good enough. The kid was rocking into him now, fucking his mouth and Lex knew it was okay now to pretend he was just pretending when he moaned, when he rocked back into it. When his own hips writhed. So turned on that when the kid came in his mouth it was almost like coming himself. 

Later in the dream he was trying to find his way out of a particularly complex bit of parkland that had been built on a steep hill. There was a path consisting of ever more complex stairs and bridges that were more like sculptures and puzzle-traps than feats of sane civil engineering. He was still turned on, still in his heavy coat, still wanting and so when he saw his rapist leaning against the wall of an alley that seemed to be an offshoot of the path he went to him gladly. 

The kid didn't say anything this time either. Just grabbed Lex by the lapels and pulled him in for a kiss. He tasted of cigarettes and other men. Lex wanted to cry with happiness. Couldn't it always be like this? He wondered as the kid stripped him naked in the chill air. All he wanted to do was kiss and kiss and hump the denimed hardness of the kid's leg. Be loved just like this, with nothing on the chopping block. Hard hands eased him down until he was on the ground, the cracked tarmac scraping his back as they writhed together. 

Then he was on his hands and knees in the way of dreams and the kid was sliding into him, hard and fast and the burn was so good he cried out and crying out, woke himself. 

Alone in his bed in the penthouse, with the charcoal light of Metropolis predawn pouring in through the naked windows. He felt stunned by the softness under him, the change of venue. Still, his hand went right to his cock, found it hard and wet. He closed his eyes and tried to hang on to the warmth of that sweetly anonymous fuck -- no lies, no love, nothing but the truth of touch. But it was too late; he was losing it, the warmth, and the heat... 

Rapid cycled through his tried and true fantasy fucks -- Clark, Helen, Desiree -- nothing there but need, his own and no one else's, and still jerking himself hard and fast, his body winding up higher, tighter even as his mind flailed. Throwing off the sheet as he staggered to his feet, took himself to the window. 

Cold air pouring off the glass like water. Like he could step through and be somewhere where this was not the best sex he'd had in months... 

The only sex he'd had in months. 

He just hadn't wanted to be touched, not after the hospital. Not after... something. His dick was still hard in his hand but he'd stopped pulling at it. Stood naked at the window, watching the sun rise over his city. 

Wanting... 

And this really wouldn't do. Sure he'd been touched in the hospital. He remembered flashes of things done to him -- needles, tests, restraints. Humiliation and pain too, no doubt -- and all in the cause of his betterment. It always was. He wondered if Adam had been thinking something like that when he'd strangled Dr. Teng. And the rest of them. Lex laughed, briefly at that. His body was making a ghost of himself on the glass in condensation. 

Ahh, Adam. Whoever the hell you were, why ever the hell my father made you. He remembered Adam's hands on the piano keys, as big as Clark's. He'd never gotten to see what was underneath his clothes, but he could imagine. Sores and scars and soft skin over hard muscle. 

Adam would have fought him tooth and nail, would never have loved him for a second. He would never have loved Adam back but the sex would have been _fucking_ good. 

His hand was moving on his cock again. Adam over his piano, the discord of the keys like a Philip Glass score; Adam against the bookcase of his apartment while pop music thudded in the Talon below; Adam over Lana's desk -- papers flying and Lana's plaintive voice on the other side of the door they'd remembered to lock; secret smirks and bruises he'd remember and Adam curled over himself in his filthy cage. Frankenstein's monster, offering his bloody hands, his mouth, his violence... 

Lex comes hard, forehead knocking against the cold glass. Comes for a long, twisting time. 

There is something to be learned here, but he cannot for the life of him think of what. For the moment he doesn't care. It's enough to be leaning hard on the thin edge of nothingness, feeling the tension drain out of him in pulses that match his pounding heart. 

He's tempted to go back to bed, but the sun is already up and that means his day has begun. He showers and dresses and drinks orange juice in his limo while he reads the papers and listens to CNN. He has a busy day ahead of him at work, and maybe after, he'll drop in on Molly and see how she's making out in her new school. Her last note had been full of excited talk of firearms and stalker psychology. He smiles. Molly is one of his better works. Then maybe he'll go out for steak at the Stadler. 

But after that he's going down to Gale and Parkland and walk around in the darkness for a while, until he finds someone who smells like cigarettes and other men's come. And who maybe doesn't want anything at all, except to touch him. Just like that. 

* 


End file.
